


Love Me Like You Do

by thewritingkoala, Tina0609



Series: Tom & Charlie [5]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Adorable Tom, Charlie Knows, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Matchmaking, Romance, Tom has a crush, accidental innuendos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 03:19:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17216018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritingkoala/pseuds/thewritingkoala, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tina0609/pseuds/Tina0609
Summary: The big moment has come on Evie's birthday weekend, three months after There She Is. Will Charlie convince Tom to let himself love again?





	Love Me Like You Do

**Author's Note:**

> After all the angst that were the last chapters, prepare yourselves for fluff, romance and humour. We had the most fun writing this.

 

So, here she stands. Again. In front of Tom’s door, knowing him, Evie and of course Tom’s mum are waiting on the other side.

Should Charlie feel nervous maybe? Afraid that Diana Hiddleston can sense the feelings Charlie has for her son? No, she decides a moment later. Because she’s sure of herself and confident. And she can let people know. She’s known she’s in love for awhile now.

Tom on the other hand… he won’t admit, he’s still afraid, and Charlie knows that. But really. Sometimes he’s that obvious while staring and stammering that Charlie doesn’t know if she should feel offended Tom’s not acting on it.

It’s been three months since they started talking to each other again. And they’ve seen a lot of each other during that time. Mostly, Charlie visiting them, helping out when Tom is busy, or just being there.

It’s one of her rare free weekends, and Diana asked for her to come over. “A Saturday-baking-session,” Tom has told her, all searching eyes and and trembling hands. It’s all for Evie’s birthday tomorrow, her fifth, the second one after her mother died.

Charlie sighs and rings the bell.

* * *

Tom startles when he hears the bell ring, dropping a packet of vanilla sugar onto the counter.

His mum glances up from her little notebook filled to bursting with recipes and sends him a look that makes him feel eleven years old and in trouble. His palms get clammier.

Evie, bless her heart, saves him by grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the entrance.

“Charlie’s here, Charlie’s here.” Bouncing like a puppy, she pulls him on, then shouts even before the door is open, “Charlieeee, we’re going to bake a cake!”

Despite his nerveousness, Tom chuckles at his daughter’s enthusiasm.

He’s barely opened the door when she launches herself at the woman on the other side.

Yeah, he’d like to jump her bones too.

Wait, shit, did he really think that? Hold on. Not jump her bones, just…just…yeah, hug her hello. That’s safe, right?

And because he isn’t  _that_  sure it’s safe, Tom just stands there, planted on the floor and watches on. Watches how Charlie first kneels down on Evie’s level and then stands up with the bouncing child in her arms.

Watches how the blonde woman smoothes down the hair on his child’s head, tickles his daughter and then smiles at her.

Does she know she has dimples when she smiles like that? And that it sounds heavenly when she laughs like that? Does she know how much her eyes start to sparkle? Or how nice her hair looks even though it’s just in a bun on top of her head?

And does she realise how well her shirt fits her? Laying itself around her curves that are on the right spots of her body? She’s also looking really good with Evie in her arms.

Evie, who is looking strangely at Tom now. Charlie’s looking at him more than amused. Shit. Did he say anything out loud?

“Huh?” is all Tom comes up with, and he feels his cheeks heating up as he gives an awkward wave.

Seriously, why is he still waving?

“Daddy, you need to invite Charlie in. She can’t help with the cake otherwise. Duh!”

Tom blinks, then keeps himself from glaring at his daughter.

“Little Miss smarty-pants,” he grumbles and tries to recover by making a deep bow and a sweeping motion.

“Do enter our castle, fair ladies. There are royally tasty treats a-waiting.”

Evie giggles and Charlie laughs her wonderful laugh again.

He wants to hear that laugh all the time. Could he tickle her? Is that still fileable under ‘things friends do’ or not?

Sweet Lord, why is he even thinking that?

He busies himself with closing the door and taking a few deep breaths as he listens to his mum greet the visitor.

Since when is his mother so awfully close buddies with Charlie anyway? Something’s fishy…

* * *

Diana Hiddleston beams at Charlie after they’ve exchanged their hellos and pleasantries, and she feels at home immediately. She often does when she’s with Tom and Evie, but Diana simply has something so warm and inviting around her that Charlie can’t help but feel comfortable.

They’ve met before. Once before Charlie’s fallout with Tom when they had a cosy afternoon back in October. And then when everything was (more than) right again on Tom’s birthday.

Right now, Diana has a sparkle in her eyes Charlie can’t quite understand. But she’ll find out eventually.

She’s just taking off her jacket, Evie still bouncing excitedly next to her, when Diana smiles wickedly at her. “Where’s my son? Did you leave him outside?”

Charlie chuckles. “No, he-” Now, what should she say? She did see how red his cheeks became and his staring wasn’t subtle either. But that’s not something his mother necessarily needs to know.

“I’m here. I’m here,” comes a voice from next to her and Charlie smiles. “What did you guys talk about?”

“We greeted each other, Tom,” Diana smirks. “And now be a gentleman and put your… friend’s jacket away.”

Charlie shakes her head. She’s feeling so relaxed and welcome here, she doesn’t even think about things like that anymore. “No, it’s not…”

But before she can react, Tom grabs her jacket – rather forcefully – and heads out of the kitchen again. Mumbling something like, “Right, gentleman” along the way.

What’s the matter with him these days?

Tom frowns, striding down the hallway with Charlie’s jacket clutched close.

It used to be so easy spending time to Charlie. So comfortable and so..right. It still is, still makes him inexplicably happy–but it’s also different. He’s nervous all the time now. Too eager or too reserved. Too loquacious or too silent.

Maybe he should just stand out here for a bit longer, breathing and calming down.

Only it doesn’t do him much good because with her jacket, he’s enveloped in her scent. Uniquely Charlie, a hint of hospital cleaner and antiseptic mixed with something warm and sweet that makes him want to burrow closer.

Tom inhales deeply, brushes a hand over her jacket and finally hangs it.

When he pads back into the kitchen, Charlie is helping tie his mother’s apron at the neck, the tip of her tongue poking out in concentration and her fingers busy with some complicated knot.

She looks so at home in his kitchen, and so beautiful in such a effortles way.

Tom has to clear his throat before he can speak.

“Let me do you, Charlie.”

Whoa. Whoops, fuck.

Blushing a dozen shades of red, he splutters, “I-I mean…I…let me do your…apron…knot thing.”

Wow. Way to go, Hiddleston.

He blushes even more when he hears a choked laugh from his mother, her body visibly shaking.

Or when he sees Charlie blushing as well, but trying to suppress her laughter at the same time.

Evie seems to be the only one on his side – or at least the only one who doesn’t know what’s just happened – because she just looks up at all their faces with a frown.

“I’ll get the ingredients,” his mum manages to get out, still grinning and shaking her head while she moves around the kitchen.

Tom’s still standing there, unmoving, mortified and staring at Charlie.

“You need to tie her apron, Daddy.”

“Yeah, sorry. Yes. Yes, I will do that. Let me have you…” NO. That’s wrong again. “Let me  _help_  you.”

They meet somewhere in the middle of his kitchen, Charlie’s cheeks tinted in a lovely shade of pink, while Tom must look like a tomato. With shaking hands he helps her.

“So. Tied the knot.” No. Not tying the knot. Not at all. “Of the apron.”

Damn it.

Charlie is going to burst if she has to hold her laughter in for any longer. Mouth pressed into a tight line and shaking a bit, she tries her hardest not to look at Tom’s mum, who is coughing rather unconvincingly before rummaging around in a cupboard.

It’s been like this for some time now, Tom being his adorable, sometimes grumpy or in-over-his-head self but at the same time having these lapses where he’s like a teenager with his first crush. Glaringly obvious and frustratingly cute.

But seriously, if he doesn’t give himself a shove in his peachy butt, she’s going to be offended. She’s long given up sendig him signals because that landed them in troubled waters some months ago, and she’s glad they made it out of that dark phase.

“So, the cake,” she hears herself say. “What are we going to bake?”

Mrs. Hiddleston bustles to her side, all business but with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Well, it’s going to be two cakes, actually. You know these two and their gigantic sweet tooth.”

They exchange a telling glance while Tom and Evie approach with innocent expressions.

“Oh yes,” she replies, looking straight at him. “Tom’s never been able to resist temptation. To take a bite, and a lick, or maybe another bite.”

She barely holds in a snicker when Tom blushes again, blinking at her through his glasses like a startled owl. Mhm, he’s caught that inuendo. Oh, this will be such fun!

Their eye contact doesn’t last long though, because Tom suddenly jerks like he’s remembering something and then coughs and looks down, fiddling with his hands.

Plus, wee Evie, bless her, doesn’t know what’s going on and is looking really desperate now. “What are we baking then?” she whines.

That earns her some chuckles from the grown-ups in the kitchen – except Tom who seems busy rummaging through the drawers looking for baking utensils.

“Well,” Diana starts, eyeing her son, smirking and then looking back at her granddaughter, “since you couldn’t decide what you wanted, you’ll get one cheesecake and one chocolate cake.”

Charlie chuckles when she hears Evie gasp. “Really? Two? For me?”

And then she's back at bouncing, Charlie chuckling softly. But Tom is still awfully quiet. Hm. She grins.

“Oh goodness, Diana,” she – well – moans. “I loooove chocolate cake. And cheesecake. They taste so. Good.”

She ends the statement with another drawn out ‘mmmhm’ and not quite suppresses a smirk when she hears some clattering beside her along with a quiet curse.

“Sorry,” Tom mumbles and hastily bends down to grab the whisk that fell from his hands to the floor. He looks rather flustered. Good.

* * *

For the next minutes, they all try hard to get down to the actual baking, Evie radiating so much joyful energy that she could probably fuel an entire power plant. Diana has chosen an interesting concept where stripes of cardboard keep cake pieces separate so that they can bake cheesecake and chocolate cake in one go without having both parts mix.

Charlie feels Tom’s eyes on her the whole time, and it’s exhilarating and frustrating at the same time. Who can blame her if she tries to gaud him some more, deliberately brushing his fingers or other parts of his body whenever she needs to get close for an ingredient?

He must’ve dropped or jostled things at least three times already, and it’s getting more and more difficult to not giggle or grin knowingly.

“Really, Thomas, I never knew you’ve got two left hands,” Diana tuts softly. “How is it you even manage your famous English breakfasts and bolognese when those fingers of yours keep fumbling?”

Charlie could swear she’s doing this on purpose, as if the two women have ganged up on poor Tom.

Predictably, he grouses and grumbles, offended and challenged. “I’ll have you know I’m very good with my hands. All my fingering is accurate usually.”

Yup, there goes the fiery blush. “I-I mean. I usually…uh…don’t fumble. Yes, that.”

Tom is quite sure his mother is out to kill him – she and Charlie, because honestly, just how much touching can there be whilst baking a cake? – when she asks, “What’s so different today then?”

He feels his cheeks heat up some more, his hands trying to at least not drop the entire egg into the bowl. If he knew how to answer, he would. (Or maybe not, just like he didn’t say anything these past few weeks.)

“I’m…excited.” Some more snickers. “No, I’m not.” Fuck it all. “I just want to get that cake right, okay? Evie deserves a perfect cake. Or two. Or whatever.”

Okay. That’s quite the outburst right there, and Tom can feel the eyes of the females all on him – even Evie’s. “Can we just bake now?” he asks, looking around, eyes maybe lingering on Charlie a little too long.

“Yes! Bake me two cakes!”

Tom can’t even scold her for not saying ‘please’ and using that bossy tone she sometimes develops. He’s just happy Evie’s saying something that drags the attention away from him.

Get a grip, Hiddleston, he thinks to himself as he takes a deep breath. When Charlie walks past him and her elbow brushes his lower back, he does drop the egg – shell included – into the bowl after all.

* * *

_Almost 2 hours later_

He doesn’t know quite what they’ve been doing for the past couple of hours–but it surely wasn’t a lot of baking.

Somehow, he’s spent most of his time either ogling Charlie or cleaning up a mess he’s caused. Or blushing. She seems to have spent most of her time sending him enticing smiles–has she always smiled at him like this?–or touching him in some unnecessary—completely necessary–way. The only one who’s done some actual baking is his mother, though she must’ve done most of it blindly as her knowing gaze was always on him or Charlie.

Bless Evie though, for being so completely oblivious and joyful.

She’s currently bouncing in front of the dinging oven, signaling that baking time is over and the cake is almost ready to be decorated with all the icing and other items they’ve readied in the meantime - minus the chocolate he and Evie snacked on while Charlie licked icing off her finger in a gesture so innocently provocative that he had to flee to the loo for a bit.

“Yay, ready!”

Charlie sends his daughter a radiant smile, dons oven mitts and bends to retrieve the cake from all the heat.

Christ, he shouldn’t be staring at her butt. Shouldn’t be itching to touch it, grip it, run his fingers…

Fuck it all, he should NOT be lusting after her. Or should he? He’s allowed to have a crush on her, right? But..but…

Gritting his teeth so hard he’s half afraid they’ll crack, Tom scoops Boots off the floor, who’s pranced in to sniff the fragrant air and make everyone in the kitchen trip over him.

He’ll just hold on tight to the cat and hope to God he won’t be ending up making a seriously shitty pussy pun.

* * *

It’s about twenty minutes later, and Tom feels quite proud of himself for indeed not making a pussy pun.

At the moment he’s just happy to hold Boots in his lap since there’s been a smidge of chocolate right by Charlie’s lips and Tom is itching to run his finger over the soft lips – it’s even worse that he actually knows how they taste.

The cake is cooling and waiting for the next day to be eaten, not a concept Evie’s fond of. At the moment, they’re all sitting at the table, mugs of tea – and a juice for Evie – in front of them. His mum is next to Evie on the other side of the the table, Tom is sitting next to Charlie. He’s got no idea what they’re actually talking about, but it’s got something to do with food and dinner.

And then there’s a strange gleam in his mother’s eyes.

“You know,” she starts, looking at Tom. “I saw you have quite the right ingredients to make a good carbonara. You know how much I love to make that.”

He raises a brow. What now? “Yes…”

“And I’d love to have a birthday breakfast with my granddaughter tomorrow. I could cook for us tonight. And then I wouldn’t have to go back to Emma’s either.”

“Yeah, sure,” he answers, still not getting what this has to do with that knowing smile and sparkle in her eyes.

“And what would you like, Evie?” The long drawn ‘uuuuuuhm’ from his little daughter is met with a not so subtle nudge.

“Oh! Yes! I’d love to have a birthday breakfast with Charlie, too! Right after waking up! She needs to stay here.”

“Oh, Evie. But I’m in the guest room.” His mother is so obvious that Tom would roll his eyes if he wasn’t busy holding on to Boots and trying not to die from an aneurysm. He doesn’t even want to glance at the woman next to him.

“Charlie can sleep with daddy.”

Jesus fucking Christ, he can’t do this. They can’t expect him to sleep with Charlie, neither in the figurative sense nor in the literal one.

“She can’t!” he croaks out squeakily, feeling his palms go sweaty and Boots wiggle because he’s holding the cat too tight.

“Why not?” Evie’s pout is enormous and would’ve been funny if he wasn’t in hell.

He  _wants_ Charlie to stay over night. Wants to hold her, breathe her in, kiss her, do a million more things. But is he really ready for what he wants? And what about her?

All eyes are on him, and he can’t for the life of him read Charlie’s expression.

“Because…because…” He struggles to find some working brain cells. “Because you can’t just throw such news on people, Evie. I’m sure Charlie has important things to do and all, and…”

He sends a beseeching glance her way, silently asking her to help. All he gets is a slightly smug smile.

“That’s nice of you to be so considerate, Tom. But I knew it’s Evie’s birthday weekend, so I didn’t make any other plans.”

Dammit all to hell and back, why can’t she show some mercy?

Tom lets Boots slide off his lap because the cat’s been digging its claws into his thigh. He feels as if his last bit of sanity has also just wriggled free to escape ad never be seen again.

“But…Charlie didn’t bring an overnight bag or anything. Would you want her to sleep without a proper pyjama and being unable to brush her teeth?”

Evie rolls her eyes, looking way too much like her grandmother right now. “Duh, then she can borrow some of your clothes to sleep in, Daddy. Please.”

Holy mother of god, this is getting worse by the second. Charlie in one of his oversized T-shirts and nothing else? Tom can’t breathe.

“And there are always spare brushes to use,” Diana adds just as Charlie starts to feel a little uncomfortable herself.

Not because she doesn’t want to stay the night. Goodness, she wants it almost too much maybe.

No, it’s because Tom actually looks as if he’s about to faint. Don’t build too much pressure.

“Maybe,” she starts and then sees Evie’s lips start to quiver. Oh no. No, no, no.

“But it’s my birthday,” the little girl exclaims and the pout turns into a frown as her eyes go big. She’s good. “And I love Charlie.” Oh, bless her.

Charlie looks at Tom, who’s trying to look anywhere but her and whose resolve slowly seems to fade.

Then he looks at her. “Well. Do you want to sleep with me?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth Tom looks absolutely horrified. And Charlie chokes just as Diana lets out a huff and a snicker.

“Not WITH me. Obviously. I wouldn’t want…” He stops and then just shrugs. “God, I’m so sorry.”

* * *

Tom is sorting through his wardrobe, trying desperately to find something for Charlie to wear that won’t have him hard in a second and sleepless for hours.

This long-sleeved one? Nope, too short. The blue one? Nope, too see-through. The black one? Nope, that V-neck will tantalize him with cleavage he should not nuzzle with his bearded chin. The white one then? Nope, it’s so loose it’ll probably droop off her shoulders and make him want to lean over to nibble.

Fuckig hell, now he’s hard even before she’s changed!

“Tom?”

With a very unmalny squeak of surprise, he wheels around, remembering to reflexively hold one of his hundred nearly identitcal white T-shirts in front of him.

“Ch-Charlie. Ready to go to bed?” he stutters. “I mean, not with me. Well, with me but not…”

Hopeless, it’s hopeless.

Blushing for the 3255th time today, Tom swallows.

Charlie gives him that long, searching look he’s seen her give to her patients.

“Tom, you don’t have to do this, you know?” she says softly. Blushing a little herself, she adds, “I know you’ve been teased today and… I just don’t want you to feel forced or uncomfortable.”

“I’d never feel uncomfortable with you,” he blurts out.

And in the oddest way, that’s the truth. Sure, he’s been floundering and flushing all day and his body is so high-strung he’s going to explode soon–no, not THAT kind of explosion–but being with Charlie nevertheless makes him ridiculously happpy.

“Are you sure about that?” Charlie asks, raising a brow so high she’s sure it disappears in her hairline.

At one point during the night she’s been so sure he was drunk that she checked his water glass, trying to figure out if there maybe was vodka involved.

It wasn’t. Tom’s stone cold sober, he’s just lost the ability to speak (or walk or hold things in his hand) apparently.

Now, they’ve put Evie to bed a couple of hours ago, though Tom’s been stuttering so much while reading the bedtime story that the little girl insisted on Charlie reading on.

Diana’s in bed as well, and Charlie’s successfully brushed her teeth. She just needs clothes to sleep in. But Tom looks as if that’s one of the hardest tasks ever.

As her eyes travel lower, Charlie bites her lips because she’s quite sure it is becoming a hard task. In more than one way.

“I am sure about that,” the man in front of her answers anyway, but doesn’t move anymore.

So, she helps him out. (Goodness, now she’s starting with the innuendos as well.) “How about I just sleep in my hoodie as well? I’ve brought it along. I’m always cold anyway.” That’s a lie. She’ll probably be burning to death in that bed, especially with Tom in his boxer shorts right next to her. Will he be wearing that?

He nods and holds out a shaking hand, moving just his right arm, his lower body planted where it is, as he gives Charlie a white long t-shirt.

“Wear this then.”

* * *

Charlie’s gone into the bathroom to change, eyeing the hoodie for a long time before sighing heavily and pulling it on. It’s comfy–as is Tom’s shirt that smells temptingly of him and has been worn soft–but she’s not particularly looking forward to roasting like a chicken in the oven.

Ah well, the sacrifices you make for love.

Her own thought brings her up short with a small gasp. Suddenly she feels as flustered and confused as Tom.

Great, just what they didn’t need right now. Or did they?

Is it wrong of her to nudge and hint without outright pushing him? She’d done so before and spooked him into running. But this time is different because Tom’s the one who’s taken a step in the right direction, and now she only needs to gently entice him further.

Standing up straighter, Charlie opens the bathroom door. They’ll make it somehow, she’s got faith in them.

Contrary to what she expected, Tom hasn’t gone to pretend sleep, rolled up in a dozen blankets. That’s a good sign, right? He’s trying.

He’s sitting on what she assumes is his side of the bed, dressed in grey jogging bottoms with a hole in the left leg and a black Nike T-shirt. One of his legs is bouncing nervously as he lifts his head to look at her.

Charlie clears her throat. “Is that your side then?” she asks softly. It’s almost like talking to a wounded animal. Or maybe a deer that’s about to run off.

Tom looks back down to the bed as if he’s just realised where he’s sitting, then looks up again and swallows. “Uh, it used to be. Yes. But you can sleep here, if you like? I don’t know which side you take at home. Obviously. Because we haven’t slept together yet. Which is fine. Obviously. So. Yeah.”

The leg is bouncing heavier now, and Charlie can’t suppress a tiny chuckle. “It’s okay, Tom. I’ll sleep on the other side.”

At that he nods and then rushes under the blankets that look heavenly soft and inviting. So, Charlie rounds the bed, getting in on ‘her’ side and pulls the blankets up – to her hip because she can already feel she’s starting to sweat. Maybe he’ll fall asleep before her and she can get rid of the hoodie?

And then they’re both in bed, on their backs, staring at the ceiling. The light’s still on, and Charlie can hear Tom’s breathing which sometimes stutters as if he wants to say something before sighing softly.

Yep, they’re totally getting there.

“Tom?” Charlie asks and feels him jerking before answering with a tiny humming sound. “Are you okay?”

“I…” He pauses for some time, and Charlie can almost hear his brain working on overdrive. “Yes and no, I suppose.”

She shifts so she can turn on her side and look at him, all too aware that it brings her body closer. After a moment, Tom does the same. Well, at least he’s not hiding.

“Why?” she asks, then holds her breath for a answer.

This time, the pause lasts even longer. Tom closes his eyes for a moment, then forges ahead. “Being with you makes me happy. But it also makes me feel things I haven’t felt in forever. It makes me feel terribly out of control.”

Charlie’s heart gives a big thump in her chest, then speeds up a bit. This is good, right? Or will he get too frightened?

“You know you don’t have to do this, right? Whatever this is?” she says softly.

Tom opens his eyes again and scoots a tiny bit closer. “I know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” She’s holding her breath again, feeling even more hot in her hoodie now.

Another long pause. “I don’t know what I want.”

Well, at least he’s being honest. Charlie clings on to that and gives herself a push.

“Would you like to know what I want?”

He looks somewhat scared but nods, his tongue licking his lips quickly and making the room feel about ten degrees hotter.

“I’d love to just hold hands. To…connect, I guess? To not feel as if I’ve forced you to this or am lying next to a stranger.”

After half an eternity, Tom smiles softly, and it reaches his eyes.

“I think I can do that.”

He reaches out and takes the hand lying between them on the bed, engulfing her fingers with his big, slightly cool ones.

This feels nice, Tom thinks. It feels even more than nice. Tom knows it’s just holding hands but he hasn’t done this in… well… over a year.

And in the way they’re lying here together they’re so close that Tom can see the specs of brown in Charlie’s green eyes. He can also see the tiniest of freckles on her nose and her cheeks.

The best thing is he can stare at those details without feeling embarrassed – well,  _too_ embarrassed – because it’s only the two of them and Charlie is the one who wanted to hold hands.

She wants him. The thought makes his breath stutter again. His breath, his brain and his heart. She wants him. Okay, she’s made it clear before, but someone it only now registers.

If he can get his shit together, they can be more than two friends.

Before Tom can voice any of that – would he even want voicing any of that?! – Charlie speaks again.

“Thank you for today,” she says. “For inviting me over and letting me stay.” She smiles at him and his stomach is doing strange somersaults.

“You’re welcome.”

And that’s all. Because he’s got absolutely no idea what else to say to her. What could be the right words? What’s too little and what’s too much? He used to be good at this. At flirting. And now he feels like he’s 14 again, messing everything up.

Tom sees something in Charlie’s eyes shift. Some sort of determination, and he steels himself for what’s about to come.

And then she starts humming?! Is he dead? In some alternate universe? But no, she really squeezes his fingers, closes her eyes and hums. Okay. So. He listens.

After a while, he recognizes the tune. Not that he’s watched that particular movie, thank you very much. But of course he knows the song, he just hasn’t paid much attention to it.

Why’s she humming it?

Tom snuggles an infinitesimal bit closer because this does feel really nice. 

For a second, he’s reminded of Em and him, humming or actually singing to tiny Evie when she was a toddler.

The memory brings pain, as it probably always will, but he can handle it somewhat better than before. He’s learned not to cling to it but acknowledge it and let it pass.

And one reason why he’s learned it is the amazing woman lying next to him.

Before he can break his reverie to express some form of gratitude–though blurting out ‘thank you’ is probably today’s tip of the embarrassment iceberg–Charlie’s hums turn to low singing, and the ever-curious man inside him pays more attention to the lyrics.

She starts with the catchy chorus, and her “Love me like you do - What are you waiting for?” hits him like a sledgehammer. Staring, Tom barely hears enough of the other lyrics, catching a few phrases or two that make her choice of song perfectly clear.

_I’ll let you set the pace  
‘Cause I’m not thinking straight  
My head’s spinning around I can’t see clear no more  
What are you waiting for? _

* * *

When the song’s finished Charlie is lying there, eyes still closed. She’s almost afraid to even breathe. Her hand is still in Tom’s big one and she can feel her cheeks heat up.

She doesn’t even know why she’s done it. Well, okay, that’s a lie. She knows exactly why she’s done it.

She wants Tom to know how she feels – as if she’s never made that clear before. And she wants him to know that it’s also okay how he feels. And that they may be doing this his way, but that they  _are_  doing it. Somehow.

Charlie still doesn’t move. Mostly, because Tom doesn’t move either. He’s also not talking, and Charlie’s not quite sure, if he’s even breathing.

She’s pushed too far, hasn’t she? But at least she’s tried. Maybe she should just get up and then come back here first thing in the morning? To not make it more awkward than it already is. Also, she’s slowly burning in this stupid hoodie, so a chance to get rid of it sounds great. She’s just hoped for another way to lose it.

Just as she wants to move, loose the grip on Tom’s hand, he clears his throat and Charlie holds her breath.

“Charlie?”

“Hm?”

“Why,” he stops then starts again. “Can you open your eyes, please?”

So, she does – reluctantly – and stares into Tom’s blue orbs. His face is mere centimetres away from hers and Charlie swallows a sigh.

“Did you mean that?” Tom asks.

Charlie is one second away from huffing and giving him her best ‘seriously?!’ look when he squeezes her hand tightly.

“No, forget I just asked that. You obviously did.”

Well. That’s better.

His tongue flicks over his lips, and the room temperature rises to about 60 degrees.

“Charlie, I…” Tom swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs so close to her that she has to grind her teeth so she won’t touch it or lick it. Desperate much? Yes, and she’s not even ashamed of it.

“I used to be the one who could quote song lyrics or recite appropriate poems in a heartbeat,” Tom continues quietly, his gaze never leaving hers. ”But I can’t think of a single one right now. Perhaps that will tell you how I feel more than anything I could have quoted?”

Well. That’s even better.

Charlie gives a single nod, thinking she shouldn’t say anything just yet. Sure enough, Tom has something more to add–with a tiny smile and gleam in his eyes that she’s missed all day.

“I  _will_  love you my way, Charlie. When I’m ready. I can’t make you any promises when or even how. I apologize, I honestly can’t. But…” He squeezes her hand so tightly now that it hurts, but she doesn’t mind a bit. “But for now, how about some cuddling and snuggling while I already have you here?”

She has to actively stop the grin from reaching all over her face at Tom’s words, but Charlie’s not sure she succeeds. Probably not. Because she can feel her face light up reflecting in the smile on Tom’s face that grows larger by the second.

Charlie really tries to not look too eager, but it’s unsuccessful. On the other hand, maybe she should look eager. Because with the emotional state Tom’s in, Charlie needs all the obvious moves to hammer home her intentions.

“That sounds wonderful,” she whispers giddily, and before Tom has the time to possibly second guess himself, Charlie skids closer, loses the last few inches that separate them, and snuggles in.

She’s let go of the hand Tom was holding, instead wrapping her arm over his side, her hand coming to rest on his back, the other hand is on his chest, right by her face. Charlie’s leg finds its way between Tom’s, and she squeezes so tight that her face is pressed against his pecs.

This is a nice position to find yourself in. Charlie smiles against Tom’s chest, sighing and then taking a deep breath. He smells like Tom. Fresh laundry and a little bit of vanilla sugar from their baking session.

“Did you just,” Tom’s voice takes her back to the here and now. “Did you just smell me?”

She can’t help but chuckle, mostly because Tom almost sounds giddy and she feels like she’s getting a glimpse of the before-tragedy Tom.

“Maybe.”

“Huh.”

And then Tom’s arms wrap around her and Charlie can feel Tom’s nose in her hair. “Hmmm,” he mumbles, sending shivers down her spine. No one should sound so sexy when they hum and mumble.

“Did you sniff my hair?”

“Maybe.”

This was a really good idea.

Tom nuzzles some more, wallowing in the closeness.

Of course, Charlie has held him before. Mostly when he’s had breakdowns, but also friendly hugs because he can’t help it, he’s a big hugger. But this feels different. More intimate, despite layers of clothes and his earlier statement of doing things at his own pace.

He strokes a hand up and down her spine, only to have her press even closer with a low sound that reminds him of Boots purring.

Yup, this is very nice. Only…

“Charlie?”

“Mhm?” It comes out muffled because she’s started rubbing her cheek against his chest, once again reminding him of his cat seeking affection.

“You’re hot.”

Her giggle-snort makes him grimace and blush, then grin a bit when she mutters a slightyly smug ‘gee, thanks’ into his shirt.

“Well, yes, in that way too but…you’re also actually as hot as a furnace.”

The woman in his arms freezes and Tom has an ‘oh shit, snuggling time is over, I’ve ruined it’ moment–then she wriggles out of his arms in a flash.

“Thank  _fuck_ you finally noticed.”

He can only stare art her for a moment, then bursts out laughing at her shout. His laughter gets stuck somewhere in his suddenly dry throat when Charlie shifts and writhes to get rid of her hoodie, her legs and lower body automatically brushing agaist his because she’s leaning her upper body back.

Well, hell. She’s even hotter now.

And then she does what Tom tried to avoid when he searched through his shirts for what felt like an hour. Her hoodie is off and Charlie’s in only his shirt, and Tom forgets how to breathe for a moment.

When Charlie looks at him, green eyes tired but also big, Tom can’t help but lick his lips, trying to get some sort of moisture back there.

“Is this still okay?” she asks, still leant back, blonde hair falling over her shoulders in waves.

“Uh.” He doesn’t know what he’s trying to communicate exactly, because his brain short circuits. “Yeah,” Tom croaks out then. Because yep, this is definitely okay. More than that, and he feels himself bloody blushing again since he’s sure that Charlie feels how okay this is as well.

She grins at him, moving her hips a bit, making Tom stifle a groan. “I see.”

And before he can retort anything, Charlie is back in his arms. The material of the shirt is definitely too thin. Or not thin enough. Tom can feel everything.

Charlie’s not at his chest this time, but holds her head a little higher. And then she gives Tom a kiss right at the corner of his mouth.

“Relax,” she whispers, and Tom can feel himself doing just that.

* * *

Barely awake, Tom wonders what feels so different this morning.

When it hits him, he opens his eyes wide with a gasp. He’s not alone in bed!

What he can see after some blinking is what confirms what his body can feel: He’s spooning Charlie from behind, her curves cuddled close. Somehow, during the night, one of his hands has snuck under her (well, his) T-shirt and is resting on a sliver of bare skin on her belly. One of his legs is nudged between hers, and his face must’ve been buried in her neck and hair because he’s still close to that.

Her scent is everywhere, her body feeling exactly right in his embrace.

A bit too right.

Tom blushes furiously and automatically tilts his pelvis away because someone is very excited about waking up with a gorgeous woman.

“Y’ don’t have to move,” comes a sleepy whisper that adds to his excitement and arousal.

Tom blushes even more, then mumbles a barely audible ‘good morning’.

Charlie is just starting to turn in his embrace, touching his body in torturous ways in the process, when the room door opens with a bang.

“Good moooorning!” Evie shouts. “It’s my birthday today!”

They jerk apart. Well, mostly Tom, because Charlie has to admit she’s moving away a little reluctantly.

Tom does need both of his hands to throw them into his lap, though, making Charlie hide a snort. Not very good apparently, because Tom blushes again and rolls his eyes at her.

Evie barrels towards the bed and jups in at the end of it, still screeching – yes, it’s screeching now – “It’s my birthdaaaaaaay!”

Charlie doesn’t know if she should be mad or not. She was quite enjoying the feel of Tom’s arms around her, how his fingers traced slight patterns on her belly probably without realising it, and that he obviously felt very comfortable too.

But Evie coming in here gave them a laugh and the slightly awkward tension that came over Tom is gone.

The girl jumps in Tom’s lap, making him wince a bit, but laughing as well. “It is!” he exclaims. “Happy birthday, munchkin. You’re a big girl now.”

“I am!” Evie shouts and jumps the other way, this time towards Charlie. “I am a big girl, Doctor Charlie!”

“You are! Happy birthday, lovely.”

“Well thank you,” she answers before shooting up again. “My presents! My cake!” Is the last Charlie hears of her as she runs out of the room to open another door forcefully. “Grannie!”

She doesn’t hear much of the following conversation but looks at Tom instead, who’s biting his lip. He shouldn’t do that. “Well, good morning I guess.”

“It feels like a  _very_ good morning,” Charlie can’t help saying.

That earns her a nervous giggle and a new blush, reminding her of yesterday’s blundering, fidgety Tom. But something is different. Is it his eyes, looking less panicky?

Have they really taken a step forward?

Before he can react to that–and stop biting that lip so provocatively–they hear voices filter in from outside the room.

“No, Evie, you will not barrel into the room again,” Diana says sternly but with love. “There are grown-ups in there, and you know that grown-ups need some time in the morning.”

Evie’s whine of “but it’s time for gi-hifts” is interrupted just as resolutely. “And because it’s your birthday, you and I will go and wash you and dress you like a proper birthday princess. And  _then_ it’s time for a birthday breakfast and for presents, young lady.”

Footsteps retreat down the hall, and Charlie is torn between eternal gratitude and slight mortification because she has an idea why Tom’s mum wants to give them some privacy.

She returns her gaze from the door to Tom’s face and fids him starig at her as if she’s the solution to world peace.

Oh god. Is he thinking about a good morning kiss?

She’s positively glowing. At least that’s what Tom is thinking. He didn’t know she’d look so beautiful in the morning. Of course, they’ve seen each other in the morning before. But it’s been after a night shift or when they’ve met a little later for breakfast. Charlie’s beautiful.

And he can’t help but stare at her. Does she want to kiss him? Does he want to kiss her?

Tom’s palms get sweaty, his lips and throat dry and his belly does somersaults just as his heart starts beating loudly.

Tom moves towards her, facing Charlie just as she turns a little as well.

Damn it, they’ve done it before. He knows what she tastes like, and maybe that’s what makes him more nervous now. Because of the anticipation that’s slowly building.

“Charlie,” he whispers and they both move a little closer to the middle of the bed. She looks up at him with shining eyes, inviting him in. “Do you… can I…?”

But she stops him with an eager nod and a “Yes, please!” Now it’s her turn to blush and Tom grins a little.

He moves even closer, nudging his nose against hers, breathing in her scent, bathing in the warmth she’s radiating. And then he brushes his lips against hers as they sigh simultaneously and he closes his eyes.

Okay. He’s going to do this now. Tom presses his lips against hers a little firmer and even forgets to breathe for a moment.

Wow.


End file.
